I shall come into your dream
As a black ewe, approach the throne
On withered and infirm
Legs, bleating: «Padishah,
Have you dined well? You who hold
The world like a bead, beloved
of Allah, was my little son
To your taste, was he fat enough»
Я приснюсь тебе черной овцою
На нетвердых, сухих ногах,
Подойду, заблею, завою:
"Сладко ль ужинал, падишах?
Ты вселенную держишь, как бусу,
Светлой волей Аллаха храним...
Так пришелся ль сынок мой по вкусу
И тебе, и деткам твоим?"
«Fears, jeers, tears / And all that caper / Aren't worth the ink / Aren't worth the paper. / Blots and smears / Aren’t worth the ink / Nor what gives off / A moral stink. / Go and write odes / Where "liberty" / Lamely rhymes / With "brotherly". / Go and write ballads / Whe...»
«In the state there is the law / Citizens cannot ignore. / In the anti-state the sheep / Have a private rule they keep. Under rule of law the folk / Serve what gives them food and drink / But rebellion has no book / And revolt no pen and ink. When rebellion goes to press / When revolt...»
«My beloved! My tricky demon! / You’re so bony, that if you please / A cannibal eating you for luncheon, / Would break his teeth while he was crunchin’. But I am not from such a rude breed / (And anyways a little toothless), / So therefore, without being an annoyance / I’ll eat you...»
«Pain’s quieter — your hand, / Whitebodied color of magnolia — your hand. Love knocked on my door at wintery midday, / And holding a sable fur — your hand. Ah, like a butterfly, touched down on the stem of / My hand for a moment — no longer — your hand! And what my enemies and I ...»